


Of Gods and Monsters, Edda 7: Palladium-eyed Michael

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [26]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Alternatives, Black Character(s), Black Male Character, Conditioning, Disagreement, Dopamine - Freeform, F/F, Fucked Up, Gay Male Character, Gen, M/M, Making An Offer He Can't Refuse, Male Character of Color, Memory Alteration, Motivations, Pining, Talon Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Trans Sombra (Overwatch), Unreliable Narrator, Wisdom, endorphins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:57:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Moira O’Deorain has won. Her rivals within Talon destroyed, her trio of loyal Weapons - the Changed and copper-eyed Tracer, the silver-eyed Oilliphéist, and golden-eyed Widowmaker - at her command, to remake the world.Innovation never stops, and the medical research community is always happy to meet and discuss the latest advances on someone else’s expense account. Dr. Angela Ziegler, though, is more looking for one particular lunch date - but Dr. Michael Ngcobo would rather not stay for dessert.This story - a side-step/alternate-ending sequel toThe Armourer and the Living Weapon- will be told in a series of eddas, sagas, fragments, texts, and cantos, all of which serve their individual purposes. To follow it as it appears,please subscribe to the series.





	Of Gods and Monsters, Edda 7: Palladium-eyed Michael

> _It is said a man begins to be a sangoma_   
>  _by being made ill by the Amatongo._   
>  _On his initiation, he goes like one mad to a pool,_   
>  _and dives into it, seeking for snakes._   
>  _He seizes them and comes out of the water,_   
>  _entwining them, still living, about his body._
> 
> _And the condition of a man who is to be an inyanga is this._   
>  _At first he is apparently robust, but becomes quite delicate._   
>  _He dreams of many things, and his body is muddled,_   
>  _he becomes a house of dreams, his sleep merely by snatches,_   
>  _and when he wakes, he wakes shaking like a reed in the water,_   
>  _dripping with perspiration._
> 
> _After a time, while asleep, he is commanded by the Itongo,_   
>  _"Go to this woman; she will churn for you a special ubulawo,_   
>  _that you may be a healer, and a diviner, altogether."_   
>  _He comes back quite another man, being now cleansed,_   
>  _inyanga and sangoma, both, indeed._

_[The 118th Annual Meeting of the Japanese Society of Neurology]_   
_[Nitori Culture Hall, Sapporo, Hokkaido prefecture, Japan]_

"Michael! How lovely to see you again, after all this time."

Angela Ziegler waved, suddenly next to the shocked Dr. Ngcobo, who jumped, wishing he could be literally anywhere else, anywhere else in the world at that very moment. He glanced around, verifying, yes, the other members of the university's delegation still surrounded him.

"Doctor Ziegler," he said, hesitantly, covering his fear the best he could. "I did not realise you were coming to this conference. How surprising to see you here." _How can she see anything through those glasses?_ he thought.

She smiled. "I'm sure it is. I had no idea I'd see you, either," she lied, "you've kept such a low profile since you left Oasis, I wasn't even sure where you were these days."

"I presume you've met Dr. Verma?" he asked, getting his colleague's attention.

"Dr. Ziegler!" the King George Medical University neurologist said, enthusiastic and surprised. "We have not met, Michael - thank you for the introduction. It's an honour."

The Swiss doctor smiled and shook the man's hand, bowing a bit, that combination of politeness gestures so common at these conferences. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor! I quite enjoyed your presentation. The full paper is out in March?"

"Yes," he beamed. "Your former college's contributions were invaluable - you shouldn't've let him go!"

"I agree," she said, smiling widely. _And I intend to correct that mistake._ "But with the restructuring, we were going to be operating at half capability for long enough that it hardly seemed fair _not_ to let him wander about for a while. I'm so glad you've been able to make good use of his talents."

"Oh, I assure you, we have, and intend to do so - as long as he'll allow us."

"Doctor, please," Michael said, doing his best to pretend everything was normal, to laugh the compliment off. _How is this happening? She seems so... normal._

Angela looked around, spotting a clock. "I see it's nearly time for lunch - would you like to get something? I'd love to catch up. We don't have to go anywhere - it's hard to find _bad_ food in Japan, and the on-site restaurant is surprisingly good."

_You have to be kidding_ , the doctor thought, blinking. _Are you seriously going to act as though..._

"Oh, come on, Michael," she said, grinning, flicking her glasses down for a moment, flashing her bright bronze eyes. "Aren't you the _least_ bit interested in knowing what we've been up to since you left?"

Michael nodded, carefully. "Well," he forced himself to smile, "if you're going to put it that way, I suppose I have no choice. Dr. Varma, I hope you'll come along?"

"I can't, Michael, I have to prepare for the afternoon - I'm sorry. But I'll see you at 13:00?" He flashed a smile towards the famous Mercy. "Don't you steal him back away from us!"

The goddess of life laughed. "I certainly hope _that_ wouldn't ever be necessary. It was very nice to meet you, doctor - and I'm looking forward to your second presentation."

"Thank you! I am, too."

\-----

Michael Ngcobo sat in the most public chair possible in the open multi-form restaurant at the far end of the Cultural Centre, as the waitress placed menus in front of the two researchers for the more complex dishes their conveyor did not carry.

"I'm not on the programme," he said, quietly, in English. "My badge is under another name. How'd you find me?"

"Nothing special." Angela Ziegler smiled, ignoring her menu. "Scientists are terrible at keeping secrets - you know that. And when I heard you were going to be here, I had to come, as well. Particularly when you'd left so _abruptly_ , right when I needed you..."

"Right when you - the you that you had been - managed to warn me, you mean. Before that you was... gone."

Bemusement crossed her face. "Gone? Hardly _gone_ , Michael. More, perhaps. Unleashed, even - but I'm still right here." She shook her head, ruefully. "You know - at one point, the thought of punishing you for disloyalty actually crossed my mind?" Catching his small flinch, she laughed a little, but mostly at herself. "It was, I agree, petty of me. But I was still awfully new, and everything was still so... overwhelming. Beautiful, but overwhelming." She sipped at her water. "I'm glad you're working, by the way, and not just... hiding, like so many others. It's so unnecessary."

"Unnecessary?" he stressed, shifting forward. "After Fareeha? We all saw the video. We know what you and your... friends... did."

She glared, briefly, but severely. "A mistake had been made, and it had to be corrected, and that's all there was to it." The smile returned. "It could've perhaps have been handled differently, true - but Helix Security was literally preparing an assault on the government of a sovereign state. I might suggest that we _were_ the gentle solution."

"114 casualties. Gentle."

She shrugged. "Fewer than a bombing campaign. Far fewer than a war - we've both seen more than our fair of those."

He didn't blink. "So, it's official - Ree's on your side now, too."

"She was always on my side. She just... forgot that, for a little while. And yes, she's fine now, thank you for asking."

"Healthy and happy, no doubt."

"Very much so. And in both tactical and strategic charge of the Oasis security forces."

The waitress returned, and the doctor ordered tea and hayashi beef potage in crisp Tokyo-standard Japanese. Dr. Ngcobo looked surprised, before ordering his kamo rosu in Japanese as well.

"I didn't know you spoke Japanese," he said. "I had to order for you in Yokohama, year before last..."

"I didn't, year before last," still smiling. "I do now."

"Ah."

"It took me three months of work before I could pass the N1 exam. We're hoping to improve on that."

"I see. And talking of seeing - the eyes?"

"Part of the process. I'm quite happy, with mine. My vision has certainly improved."

"Doctor, I am..." He looked up, as their food arrived. _Service is certainly quick in Japan_ , he thought, not wrongly. "You're here - officially, even," he waved at the doctor's badge. "It would not look good for you to _steal_ a South African researcher, or anyone else; that's not why you're here. You must want to talk. Why?"

"I think that's obvious. We want you to come back. To come _home_." She took a bite of her potage, and savoured it.

"Step into the talons of Oasis again?" he asked, picking up a piece of his thinly-sliced roasted duck breast with his chopsticks, contemplating it. "Why would I do that?" he asked, dipping the duck lightly into sauce, and placing the meat on his tongue.

_Clever_ , she thought, amused. "Because we need you. We need your skills, your mind, your... brilliant work. You could do so much more with us than you can anywhere else, and you have to know it. Personally, I’d love to see your insights - we launched several new projects after you left. I think you’ll find them interesting!”

He picked up another slice of duck. "And because you'll... what? Kidnap me? Kill me? if I don't?" This time, no sauce - the breast had been seared so perfectly, it seemed superfluous.

The doctor frowned in a way he found almost hauntingly familiar - the way she would frown when she thought someone was being intentionally obtuse, wasting her time. She'd spooned out a piece of beef from the potage, but put it back down. "Michael - I'm not here threatening you. I'm here offering you a _position_ \- a position unlike any other in the world." 

He turned his head, just a little, focusing harder on her with one eye. "A _position_... like yours? After thinking about _punishing_ me for leaving before, as you put it?"

Ziegler smiled again. "Oh, no. Even were I still angry, I couldn't stay that way, not after a..." She spooned up that forgotten piece of tender seasoned beef, gesturing. "Not after a mutual friend of ours told us how much you'd helped her. We're all _grateful_ to you, Michael. Not angry."

He shook his head, poking lightly at the mushroom served with the duck. _Damn_ , he thought. _Well, now we know._ He picked up the mushroom, and ate it. "And now, she's just another loyal member of the organisation."

Ziegler swallowed, and sipped her tea. "She is with us, now, but - on her own terms, by her own _hand_. An extraordinary feat, really - one only a few people in the world could've... survived, if I'm to be correct about it." She breathed out, heavily, trying to imagine the pain, and couldn't. "I wouldn't recommend you come in _that_ way. But I would say she's not the only one we... haven't had to work hard to convince."

"And I'm getting this _invitation_ ," he said, dipping a small moist pan roll into sauce, "because I took a chance, and helped _her_. Is she behind this? Is this some sort of... repayment?"

_Ah,_ she thought, _he recognises this as a gift._ "A little - but mostly not. Honestly, Michael, it's because your contributions to the field - to science generally - are valuable, and valued. No one else in the world does your level of work in your area. No one else could've reverse-engineered the nervous system optimisations the way you did - I certainly didn't," she said. "And part of it is because I know how well we have worked together in the past. So to answer one of your earlier questions: yes. We are offering you a position _like mine_."

She put down her tea, and leaned forward, resting her head on her arched hands. "Would you like an _invitation_ , Michael?"

"Are you pretending I have a choice?"

"We always have choices, doctor."

"Did you? _Do_ you?"

"Do you think I'm a prisoner?" she countered, laughing. "Do you think Fareeha is, too? She has direct command of a small _army_ , Michael - one far more capable than that Helix nonsense she left behind. I'm with who I am because I _want_ to be with them. I could leave tomorrow. I could leave... now. This very instant. But I don't want to."

"Because you were _made_ not to want to. Because there's a directive, somehow, in your mind, keeping you there, giving you rewards for the 'right' decisions, the decisions _they_ want."

"Untrue. Never true, and you know that, and that's fear talking." She leaned back in her chair again, waving her right hand back and forth. "Oh, at one point, certainly, I would not have wanted to be where I am. I'd've run, as fast as my legs could carry me. But that changed, Michael." She leaned forward again. "People change. I'm who I am _now_ , not who I was twelve or eighteen months ago, just as I'm not who I was when I entered graduate school, or who I was before my parents died. But I _am_ me - moreso than ever - and I am here because the me that I am _wants_ to be here, because we are making a better world, for everyone."

"Amazing what a fleet of dopamine hits for the the right opinions will do to a person, isn't it?"

She snorted. "I would get a larger dopamine hit from, oh..." She picked up a blue-trimmed plate from the conveyer, showing him its delicious contents, "...eating this brownie than I get for showing up at work every day, Michael. And yet, despite that..." She removed the lid, covered the pastry in soy sauce and horseradish, and smashed it with a spoon, creating an grotesque mess. "Now it's gone, because I am not ruled by _dopamine_. I do what I do because I want to see it done. Because I think it's right."

"And because there's another brownie on the conveyor."

Angela laughed, and laughed, and laughed. "Ah, Michael, don't you realise? There is _always_ another brownie on the conveyor. One simply has to know that - and to be willing to take it."

She sipped from her tea, and pushed the small button, requesting more.

"He misses you. You know that, don't you?"

Michael scowled, a little. _Cadu_ , he thought. "What have you done to him?"

"Other than promote him? Absolutely nothing. He's a fine technician. One of our best. Why would we do anything?"

"Because it seems to be what you _do_."

"Only when it's helpful, Michael. Only when it's needed." She leaned forward, hands together, fingers interleaved. "Call him, please? I'm pretty sure you haven't moved on - have you?"

"...no," he admitted. _She seems to know, so don't let's pretend._ "I was hoping he'd follow me away."

"Not everyone can grab a top-level research position on the drop of a hat, like you can, Michael. _Call him_." She pulled a small storage drive out of her pocket. "And, here - I have something for you."

She put the drive on the table, halfway between them.

“This is everything we’ve been working on at the Institute since you left, unedited. Not individual lab books, of course, but everything the department heads have. The work is proprietary until published, but please - look it over. Verify independently what's been presented and published. There are several more papers making their way through review right now, and I think you'll see that I've been telling you the truth."

"At the Institute - but not the Ministry?"

"Government work is government work, that's true. But some of that, as well - one particular file I'm _certain_ you'll want to see, involving... my wife."

"Which one?" he asked.

"You'll see - if you choose to look."

He reached forward, and pushed the drive away.

_Damn_ , she thought, paused. "If nothing else, Michael... I’m leaving today without your answer, but - the door is open, should you decide to enter it." She picked up the drive - and the cheque. "If I was the person you seem to fear I am - would I be giving you that choice?”

As she rose, he asked, "You'll be at the conference the whole weekend, Angela?"

"Yes," she said, a little warily. "Of course."

"Then let's talk again, here - on Sunday."

"Yes, then," she nodded. "Here, again, for lunch?"

"Why not?"

\-----

Sombra glanced over as a particularly hidden back-channel indicator caught her attention.

 _I guess Ziegler finally found him_ , she thought. _Took her long enough._

She brought up a little disposable padd, and powered it up.

"Hola, Slate," she typed.

"Sombra," she heard, and she turned on the remote padd's camera for him.

"Rotate the padd?" she typed, and he picked it up, rotating it slowly around his hotel room.

"Show me the view." He aimed the camera out the window. She captured an image and scanned for similar views in Sapporo, finding one, confirmed.

She turned on the padd's remote speaker, and her local camera and microphone. "Good enough," she said. "Been a while. Starting to think maybe you'd never use that thing. So Angela found you?"

Ngcobo paused, seeing her eyes, and then snorted. "You knew."

"Course I knew, doc - I know _everything_. Professionally." Her grin seemed wider, her amethyst-gold eyes bright.

"And you did it. Nice eyes, by the way. Angela said it almost killed you. No sedation?"

She shook her head, shuddering, her eyes closed. "No. I had to know. All of it."

"And once you knew everything... you still went in?"

She nodded, eyes bright again.

"Do you regret anything?"

"No. But could you know, for sure, whether I did?"

"No."

"So there y'are, amigo. Y'can believe me, or not, but I don't think I'm lying."

"What are you really doing, all of you?"

"You probably'd think we’re crazy," Sombra, the self-made, said, wistfully.

"Building a new and better world?"

"Yep. Well, they are. I'm being a pain in the ass. I'm the thorn in their sides, Michael. But..." A moment of nervousness, almost fear, crossed her face. "If Angela's the goddess of life, I guess that makes me the trickster god, you know? And if that helps, what we really need... and we _really_ need it... is a god of wisdom."

_Gods?_ he thought. "This _can't_ be right. You _are_ crazy."

She laughed. "Hell, you’re probably not wrong! But it could be a _good_ crazy." Looking into the camera, her expression turned sharp, and serious. "Especially if we had the right person here to say ‘stop’."

Michael blinked, realising. "Wait - she's not recruiting me, is she? _You_ are."

"Yep - and _that's_ why." The hacker goddess grinned, briefly. "That's what we need, more than anything else, doc. I think we need it _right now_. I think we need it _bad_." She pursed her lips. "Don't get me wrong, doc - she means it, too. Partly because you're best at what you do, partly because you were able to help me do what I did, and she doesn't want you helping anybody _else_ do it, and all that. But me, well. I have my own reasons."

_She's desperate for help_ , he thought. _She's... begging me._ "You really think they - you really think _you_ can't be stopped from the outside?"

The hacker just laughed, brighter eyed than anyone should be. "Oh no, Slate. No way in hell. I thought you'd figured that out, too - that's why I came in. Overwatch is over. They've already lost, they just don't know yet. But we can still make this work if we have the right people. Angela trusts you. Angela believes you. She'd listen, maybe, if _you_ said no."

_She already has, once_ , he thought.

"I have to think about this," he said. "A lot."

"I believe it. But I'll give you the advice I got - if you're gonna come in, Slate, don't fuck around. Come in now. If you try it later... y'wont get as much of what y'want, and what... we need."

"Thank you," he said, nodding, and understanding. "One last question."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know Cadu? Carlos Eduardo Sato Teixeira - works, or worked, at Ziegler's institute. Stayed behind when I left."

"Also your old boyfriend," she noted. "Not much past that."

"Have they - have you - _done_ anything to him?"

_Ah_ , she thought, and smiled a relaxed smile. _I'm glad I don't have to lie._ "No."

He nodded, and thought, hard. "It's about lunchtime where you are, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I was about to go make something. Cuisine here isn't so much to my tastes. We need a god of cooking, too."

_He should be about to leave, then_ , he thought. _If he's kept his old habits._

"Can you ... not destroy this padd? I'd like to talk, later."

"Not the best opsec, amigo - but I can make an exception," she said. "Go call your Cadu."

He smirked, dropped the connection, and put away the padd to recharge. Then he picked up his phone, with its three dozen old text messages never answered, or acknowledged, tapped the most recent one, and began to type.

\-----

Palladium-eyed Michael, awoke, peacefully, to Cadu napping, sprawled across the reclining chair beside his bed. He smiled at him, and stretched, feeling himself fall together into himself, breathing out a quiet, "oooooooh, that _is_ nice," as a frisson of pleasure chased down his spine. "I _do_ understand now."

Tracer, next to Cadu, looked up from her book, and waved. "Hiya, doc!" she whispered. "Been a while! It's 4am," she said, gesturing to the lead lab technician. "He's been asleep for hours, but he's glad you're back." She smiled. "And so'm I!"  
 __

**Author's Note:**

> This edda's canto is adopted from traditional belief stories as related by Uguaise Mdunga, of what is now South Africa, in the 1860s. The stories were collected and published by Henry Callaway of the United Kingdom, in 1870.
> 
> To follow this story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual eddas or sagas.


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